


Sore Loser

by fromthechaos



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-11
Updated: 2008-10-11
Packaged: 2018-10-15 22:07:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10558474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromthechaos/pseuds/fromthechaos
Summary: Emily drowns her sorrows.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Angst. I know, shocker, right, I don't usually angst (in fic). Today is the precise day that warrants a little angst so... yeah. Sorry for being Debby Downer. Loosely based on the song "Sore Loser" by Amy Kuney, less than loosely based on my own personal drama.
> 
> Imported from my LJ Community, Originally posted October 11, 2008.

She danced.  


She drank.

Let the alcohol burn down her throat much the same way the tears had burned down her cheeks the night before. And the night before that. And so on.

She dove headlong into vices that she’d long ago abandoned with the Smiths records and black eyeliner stashed in the attic at the Prentiss Estate.

She stalked the dance floor and found the first girl she could that _didn’t_ have blonde hair or blue eyes. Pressed herself against the stranger and moved against her with a smoldering fury that the girl didn’t deserve. But the girl wouldn’t know it was anger, bitterness, resentment… just furious movement, pressing, grinding, dancing gyration. Heat. 

She wouldn’t see the tears that mixed with the sweat running down Emily’s cheeks that night. No one would.

She didn’t flinch when Emily sobbed the name _Jennifer_ as she came even though her name was Gina. 

Emily wasn’t surprised to wake up alone. She didn’t expect her to stay. She padded into the kitchen, Her fingers wrapped easily around the bottle of whiskey on the counter. She didn’t even bother getting out a glass; she simply unscrewed the cap and took a long, painful swig of it.

She didn’t want to know if it was her tears or the cheap whiskey that caused the burning in her eyes. She didn’t want to look at the calendar and know that it was a year ago today that she’d come home from Milwaukee with her life turned upside down, her heart racing and her lips tingling from the kiss that JJ had placed on them. That today wasn’t the day that JJ was curled up with _him_. With that slimy, scowling, southern _snake._ That today his hands were caressing her swollen, pregnant stomach as they mulled over baby names. 

With a tip of her head she drained the bottle and in a moment of rage that more resembled her mother than herself she snapped her wrist, flinging the empty bottle across the room, smirking with satisfaction at the echoing shatter, a sound that resonated deep inside of her. Or was the bottle merely a parroting of the sound that had been echoing through her own heart, her own mind since May when she watched JJ, _her_ JJ latching herself onto him. Or June when, with a sparkle in her eye and not so much as a blink toward Emily, announced her pregnancy as William LaMontagne, Jr. slipped his arms around her waist, _his_ eyes meeting Emily’s with a gleam, a gloat that simply said _I win._

And he had.

And Emily’s parting gift? Her consolation prize? An endless string of one night stands, a shattered, empty bottle of whiskey and a crisp, neatly folded piece of faux parchment card stock with gold letters embossed, letting her know that she was _invited_ to the wedding of Jennifer Jareau and William LaMontagne, Jr.

Emily smirked at her reflection in the wide, picture window, ghosted over the city that still throbbed against the still-dark early morning sky. “Welcome to second place, Emily Prentiss,” she whispered to the reflection, watching the ghost’s lips match hers in time, “tell me, how does it feel to be back?”


End file.
